


Deliverance

by HunterusHeroicus93



Category: Young Wallander (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Knives, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterusHeroicus93/pseuds/HunterusHeroicus93
Summary: Kurt and Rask investigate a suspect's home, but he finds them first.
Relationships: Kurt Wallander & Frida Rask, Kurt Wallander & Reza Al-Rahman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	Deliverance

Kurt woke with a gasp, wincing as his head throbbed. He stayed still for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, then assessed his surroundings. The room was fairly small, and he appeared to be sitting on a wooden crate. He tried not to think about what might be inside it, and instead focused on the rope around his wrists and the warm body behind him.  
  
“Rask?”  
  
No response.  
  
“Rask, wake up.” He leaned against her, trying to jostle her awake. She groaned, then lifted her head.  
  
“Kurt? What happened? Where are we?” She pulled against the rope, and Kurt found that their hands were bound to each other.  
  
“Ouch! Rask, stop.”  
  
“Shit. Sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay.” Kurt stiffened, listening. “Someone’s coming.”  
  
A light flicked on. They waited silently, hardly breathing, for the heavy footsteps to reach the bottom of the stairs.  
  
A large man appeared. Scruffy, unshaven, and wearing clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed or changed in months. He sat in front of them, an amused smirk on his face.  
  
“So. You gonna tell me what you was doing sneaking around my house?” he drawled.  
  
Neither of them answered.  
  
“Okay,” the man nodded. “Whatever. I don’t care. I just don’t want whatever you found getting back to the other cops. Yeah, I know who you are,” he said in response to Kurt’s raised eyebrows.  
  
“You killed thirteen people,” Rask spat. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find you?”  
  
“Fourteen,” he corrected. He pointed to the crate. Kurt shut his eyes, his stomach turning. Knowing what was underneath him was worse than imagining.  
  
“You’re disgusting,” Rask said.  
  
The man chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I am. But it’s so much _fun_.”  
  
“I can’t wait to see you in cuffs, you son of a -”  
  
The man stood, suddenly furious. He strode over and hit Rask with the back of his hand. She yelped, then glared at him.  
  
“Don’t you _dare_ ,” he growled. He returned to his seat facing them, visibly shaken.  
  
“Makes sense,” Rask said to Kurt. “His mother is a sore subject. She abandoned him, remember?”  
  
Kurt nodded slightly, wondering where Rask was going.  
  
“He was only three, bless him,” she continued, looking back at the killer. “Left alone in the house for, what was it? Two days? Eating anything you could find, living in your own waste.”  
  
The man’s eyes burned into her. He barely remembered that time, but he remembered how it made him feel. He remembered the hunger, the sadness, the desperate hope for his mother’s return. But she never came back. Instead, the police came, and took him away. He lived with many families over the years. Some with no children, some with too many. Some of the adults beat him. Others were nice, but the children were cruel and selfish. They excluded him, bullied him, hurt him.  
  
“I’m not surprised he turned out this way,” Rask went on. Kurt willed her to shut up. He could see the man’s anger growing, welling inside him. He could almost _feel_ it.  
  
“All those years of cruelty and torture is enough to send anyone mad.”  
  
That was enough. The man walked over to her slowly, a dangerous look in his eyes.  
  
“I always wanted to kill a cop,” he whispered. Kurt tensed. Rask just looked at him, not seeming to be afraid at all.  
  
“Do it, then.”  
  
He growled at her.  
  
“Rask, please,” Kurt whispered. “Don’t do this.”  
  
“You got something to say, pretty boy?” He moved around to stand in front of Kurt, sneering. He looked him over closely, making Kurt’s skin crawl. “Hmm. You’re a lot younger than she is.”  
  
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Kurt asked, his curiosity betraying him.  
  
“My favourite part of killing was the torture that came before. You’re younger and stronger.”  
  
A wave of nausea washed over Kurt. Of course. There was a good chance of his staying alive longer than Rask. Rask wasn’t _old_ , and she was tough, but she wouldn’t be able to take as much. Kurt had a better chance.  
  
“He’s just a rookie,” Rask chimed in. “He hasn’t got the years of experience I have. I’ve been through much more than him, and I’m still here. You don’t know if he’d be able to take whatever you give him.”  
  
Kurt felt a mixture of confusion and relief. He didn’t want to die, but why was Rask putting her own life on the line? She had a precinct full of cops to lead. As she said herself, he was just a rookie. His life was not as important as hers.  
  
The man pondered for a moment. “You make a good point, lady. Maybe we can experiment? Test your mettle. You vs. the kid.”  
  
“No!” Kurt was panicking now. He pulled against the restraints, forgetting they were connected to Rask as well. “Leave her alone. Like you said, I’m younger. And I’m tougher than she thinks. I’ve only been on the job a few months, but I’ve already survived more than most rookies. You can take me. Just let her go.”  
  
The man laughed. “He’s a fighter,” he said to Rask. “Maybe you were wrong about him.” He pulled out a small knife and leaned towards Kurt. Kurt braced himself, but a second later, his hands were free. This couldn’t be good.  
  
Holding the knife to Kurt’s throat, the man pulled him towards the wall of the tiny cellar, directly in front of Rask. He tried not to show his fear - he didn’t want her to think he was weak. Kurt’s hands were yanked roughly above his head one by one and locked in. He clenched his fists against the cold iron and tried not to shake. Rask glanced towards the door. The man turned at the same time and saw.  
  
“Don’t even think about it, or I’ll kill him right now and you’ll be next.”  
  
Rask swallowed and nodded. The man turned back to Kurt and studied him. He played with the knife as he did so, as if he was trying to decide where to start. He lifted it to Kurt’s face, and slid it down his cheek slowly, blade flat. When he reached his neck, he turned the knife slightly and dug it in, drawing a trickle of blood.  
  
“Blood is so pretty, don’t you think?” he murmured. “I’ve always liked red. It’s a shame the colour fades when it dries.” He nodded down at his clothes. Kurt looked away in disgust.  
  
“Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you!” The man slapped him, then took hold of his chin and forced him to turn his head back. He moved the knife up to Kurt’s wrist and dragged it down his arm, stopping just before the elbow and cutting again, deeper this time. Kurt couldn’t stop the whimper escaping him.  
  
“Hm. Think you were right about this one,” the man said to Rask. “He’s losing it already. Maybe I should just put him out of his misery.” He turned back to Kurt and pressed the knife to his throat.  
  
“No, please, give me a chance, I can take it,” Kurt said desperately. He took a breath and tried to calm himself. The more worked up he was, the quicker he would give in.  
  
The man seemed satisfied. “Good.” As he moved the blade again, he continued talking to Kurt as if they were having a casual conversation as friends. “Have you heard of _lingchi_?”  
  
Kurt shook his head.  
  
“One of my foster brothers taught me about it. I was ten years old, and he asked me if I wanted to play a game. He hadn’t been very nice to me, so of course I was surprised. But I was naïve. The art of _lingchi_ is also known as ‘death by a thousand cuts’.”  
  
Kurt noted a few faded scars dotted around the man’s neck and forearms, and put the clues together.  
  
“He did it to you,” he said softly, in genuine horror. The man nodded.  
  
“A _prank_ , he said. Just a joke.” He scoffed. “I haven’t tried it myself. I was saving it for someone special.” He smiled. “I suppose you’re special enough.”  
  
As they talked, Rask worked on her ropes. She tried twisting and wriggling her hands free, but the rope was tight. She felt around where she could reach for a loose nail or piece of wood that she could use to try and cut through, but again to no avail. She huffed inwardly, not wanting to attract attention.  
  
Kurt was sobbing quietly by now. His arms were flecked with cuts, some small and shallow, some deeper, some even longer. The man moved on to his chest, cutting through the fabric of his shirt and pulling it open. He soothed Kurt as he worked, stroking his hair and face softly and drawing blood at the same time.  
  
“You’re doing so good, pretty boy. There, see?” He pushed the knife in beneath Kurt’s lower rib. Kurt gasped sharply. “That didn’t hurt, did it?”  
  
Kurt shook his head quickly, not trusting himself to speak.  
  
Rask cocked her head towards the ceiling and smiled briefly. Then she composed herself and spoke to Kurt.  
  
“You can do this, Kurt. You’re strong, remember? I believe in you. I always have. You’ve been through worse. You’ll get through this.”  
  
Kurt stared at her. He had no idea how she was so calm about this. He was slowly bleeding to death, and she was telling him he was going to be okay. Did she know something he didn’t, or had she simply accepted that they were going to die here?  
  
Kurt whined and fresh tears spilled down his cheeks as he thought of Mona. He was never going to see her again. Reza, Jasmine… Shabana. The sweet little girl who loved her Uncle Kurt so much. She wouldn’t understand what had happened.  
  
“Oh, don’t cry, pretty boy. Kurt, is it? It’s alright, Kurt. It’ll be over soon. Only a few hundred more to go.” He glanced down at the wound on Kurt’s left side, which was bleeding steadily. “Maybe less.”  
  
He held the tip of the blade just below the sternum. Kurt held his breath. The knife bit into his skin.  
  
The cellar door crashed open and footsteps hurried down it, voices shouting. The three of them jumped. Unfortunately for Kurt, the action forced the knife into him, all the way to the handle. The man roared and ripped it out, then plunged it in again. He tightened his grip on it and twisted, then pulled. He was aiming for Kurt’s heart when a gun was fired, and he dropped to the floor, taking the knife with him. Rask had dived for cover when the police entered, rolling over the top of the crate and behind it. She pulled herself to her feet and looked for Kurt. He hung limply from the wall, blood pouring from him in thick streams.  
  
“Shit. Kurt!” Reza cried. He gave instructions to the other officers and hurried to Kurt’s side. Another officer looked for the key to the shackles while Reza tried to stem the blood flow. The two remaining went to untie Rask and take her upstairs, calling for an ambulance on the way.  
  
The key was helpfully hanging on a hook beside the chains. The second officer unlocked them easily, and Kurt dropped into Reza’s arms. Between them, they carried him up the stairs and laid him on the grass outside the run-down old farmhouse.  
  
“Stay with me, Kurt,” Reza said, pressing down on the wounds. Sirens blared in the distance. “Help is coming, okay?”  
  
Kurt moaned softly, and his eyes flickered open.  
  
“Hey, Kurt, it’s Rez, you’re alright.”  
  
“Reza?” Kurt choked. “How?” How could Reza be here? This must be a dream. Reza was far away, and he was chained up in a dingy cellar being tortured.  
  
Rask made her way over to them and knelt down beside Kurt.  
  
“I told you you’d be okay, didn’t I?” she smiled.  
  
“What’s going on?” Kurt asked. Nothing was making any sense. He coughed and groaned.  
  
“Don’t talk, Kurt,” Rask said softly. “I told Reza where we were going before I left, and I told him to come and find us if he didn’t hear from me within an hour. I guess it had been an hour.” She shrugged, smiling at Reza.  
  
Kurt was silent for a moment while he processed the information. He decided to ignore Rask’s order to stay quiet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“I didn’t get a chance. We couldn’t have been here more than a few minutes before he found us.”  
  
“How _did_ he find you?” Reza asked.  
  
“I don’t know. We split up to search the grounds. I radioed Kurt and he didn’t answer, so I went looking for him. I found him unconscious, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up down there.”  
  
“So… you knew,” Kurt started. He coughed again, and his breathing shallowed. “You were stalling.”  
  
“I’m sorry I put you through that, Kurt. Like you said, I was playing for time. I tried to get him to pick me, but then you offered yourself up and that was that. He'd made up his mind."  
  
“S-sorry,” Kurt wheezed. Rask took hold of his hand. It was alarmingly cold. She silently hoped that was because of the night air.  
  
“I forgive you, Kurt,” she said, chuckling. Kurt smiled weakly at her. There was nothing for either of them to forgive, but they did anyway.  
  
The paramedics arrived after what felt like an age, and Reza and Rask both sighed with relief as Kurt was taken care of swiftly and wheeled into the ambulance.  
  
“You should go with him,” Reza said. “Get yourself checked out while you’re there.”  
  
Rask looked around at the officers milling around the yard, awaiting their orders. She shook her head. “I have work to do here. You go. Take care of him for me.”  
  
Reza nodded. “Call me if you need anything,” he said as he headed towards the ambulance.  
  
Rask began radioing for everyone she would need to seal the crime scene and collect their suspect’s body. She watched the ambulance leave, worried but hopeful that Kurt would pull through.  
  
He was in good hands, after all.


End file.
